Here Comes Your Man
by Vi West
Summary: The clones prepare for Felix & Paul's wedding. Based on a funny Comic-Con interview with the cast.


No matter how many times Alison fiddled with the flower petals, she just couldn't get them to sit the right way.

"Hm!" she squeaked, taking a deep breath and reaching out her hand to make one final tweak.

"Enough!" Sarah demanded, slapping Alison's fingers away from the floral display.

Alison gasped at Sarah for breaking her concentration.

"It looks perfect, yeah?" Sarah asked. "Just leave it."

"Well, I know you may not see it, but something is definitely not right."

Alison twisted her fingers in her other hand and tilted her neck ever so slightly, finding a new angle from which to soak in her design.

"Would you just - " Sarah grabbed Alison's elbow and pulled her towards the garlands hanging from the ceiling. "There are more urgent matters to worry about. Like what the bloody hell are these?"

Alison clapped her hands together and smiled. "Amazing, right?" She leaned in to whisper. "You won't believe the deal I got on those."

"This," Sarah pointed, her eyes bulging, "is a fire hazard."

"I personally removed Felix's bong, broken stove grate, and twelve-holed incense burner from the premises, but the garland is a fire hazard."

"With the hanging lights, too, yeah, it is!"

"Well, it is a beautiful fire hazard, then."

Alison stepped back from her gorgeously dangerous presentation and grasped the opportunity to project her nerves onto Sarah.

"What - what - what - what is this?" she asked, pointing up and down at Sarah's outfit. "This is not what we agreed upon."

"Huh?"

"What happened to the dress, Sarah?"

"Oh, right." Sarah's jaw hung loose. "This is just like the dress. Except with pants. And no frills. And more leather. And no…dress."

"Nope, nope!" Alison closed her eyes and put her hand up. "It's fine." She took a deep breath. "Go ahead and officiate your brother's wedding looking like a street urchin. Honestly, you are the least of my worries right now."

Just as Alison glanced at the time on the clock, Felix's door clanged open. A frenzied Cosima and Delphine came rushing through, outfits in hand, suitcases rolling behind their heels.

"So, so, so sorry we're late," Cosima said.

"Always late, always sorry," Delphine added, nodding towards Cosima to indicate that it was her fault.

"Everything's - look! - everything's ready, I swear. I just have to, like, plug it all in."

Sarah rubbed her mouth, attempting to hide how amused she was at Alison's unraveling. She watched Alison's face contort as Delphine finished off her cigarette. She could tell Alison wanted nothing more than to rip it from her lips and shower her with air freshener.

"No, no, no, no." Alison said, swooping in and lifting the stub from Delphine's fingers. "I'll take care of that. You get dressed."

"I am dressed."

"Then what's that?" Alison asked, pointing to the clothes folded over Delphine's arms.

"It's Cosima's."

"Oh," Alison pouted. "But I love what she's wearing already."

"You can tell her that yourself. I'm sure she'll be pleased to hear it."

"Outlets? Outlets?" Cosima was running around talking to herself. "Don't - don't worry. I have a power strip."

Alison moved to place a hand on her reddening cheek when a glass of wine popped up in front of her face, Sarah's arm attached to it.

"Get some of this in you, yeah? Compliments of Bobby."

Alison turned around to see Bobby setting up her own makeshift bar in the kitchen area.

"Go relax for a second, okay? We got this. Look. Cosima's got her - whatever that is - ready to go. Felix and Paul are all set downstairs. And Mrs. S. is coming in now, probably here to tell us everything's running smoothly."

Alison scooted over to chat with the neighborhood bartender, having promised Sarah she'd calm down, but actually triple-checking that they had all of the alcohol she'd requested. Bobby shot Sarah a look. Sarah just raised her eyebrows and turned back to greet Mrs. S.

She took a sigh of relief upon seeing her foster mum, eager to escape any other adrenaline-fueled version of herself.

"Oi oi," Mrs. S. said, her eyes washing over her surroundings. "The place looks - it's a sight!"

Felix's loft, normally a hotbed of bohemian artistry, was now a contradictory blend of suburban potluck decor and grungy downtown chic. Greenery hung from the high ceilings. Fold-out chairs sat neatly where the couches should've been. And the city sun shone through the foggy windows, as a microscope would illuminate its subjects, spinning dust in its path. The clones mulled about, microorganisms fussing in their little world, unaware of any higher powers keen on observing them.

And Mrs. S. had only come to contribute to the chaos. She was out of breath from having lugged some large object up the stairs to the flat.

"What's this?" Sarah asked

"Ah, yes. Felix has one last request."

"Yeah, you want to tell Alison? 'Cause I'm not gonna."

Everyone's neck snapped over to the soccer mom, who had just accidentally sent a glass over the edge of the table.

"Whoopsie woo! It's good luck!" she assured her audience. "Good luck!"

Mrs. S. carefully stood the large frame on the floor and flipped it over so that Sarah could see Felix's newest creation.

"He just finished it. Helped calm his nerves before the ceremony. He wants it up by the wall there."

Painted on the canvas was Helena, limbs spread on a cross, a flower crown atop her frizzy blonde hair.

"He calls it 'Lost Sestra.'"

Sarah swallowed a lump in her throat. She was prepared to choke back tears when the boys said their "I do"s, but this was an unexpected blow.

Though Sarah wouldn't admit it to anyone, Helena had been pecking at the forefront of her mind all day. Since she'd applied to the online ministry so that she could officiate the wedding, Sarah had been thinking about religion, her own origins, her own sins. Preparing for the ceremony made her feel oddly close to Helena, in a way that she never could've been if her twin sister had lived. A wildly destructive force, Helena had been too far gone. Too many people had wanted a piece of her. She'd yearned for more than she could get, to give more than anyone had been willing to receive.

Sarah had been up nights, plagued by dreams of fighting for food in the red heat of the womb. Now, here Helena was, watching over them as they enjoyed the privileges of company and oxygen.

Music blasted from the speakers that Cosima had been setting up, jolting Sarah back into reality.

"Sorry, sorry!" Cosima cringed, turning the volume down on her mp3 player. She smiled that smile that blanketed any concern with glowing assurance. "Looks like we're good to go!"

Sarah looked at Mrs. S., eyelids threatening to drop tears.

"Better go get 'em," she said, clearing her throat.

Mrs. S. was about to leave when she turned back and grabbed Sarah's hand in her own. "Hey, chicken. We did it." Sarah nodded and gave the hand a squeeze. Mrs. S. winked at her foster daughter and went back down to retrieve Felix.

Sarah knew what she meant. Their boy, grown up. Even after all of the muddy roads they'd trudged through together, here was some long-awaited sense of solid ground. Her brother was happy. God willing, he'd never again have to face his greatest fear: being alone. And Sarah wouldn't have to worry about him if she happened to run off again. Not that she would, but if she ever did, he'd have someone there to make sure he was safe. Because even with comfort and stability - especially with those things - there was always that itch.

The music reached an even tone as more friends filed in and took their seats.

Cosima let play a spectacular mashup of "Here Comes Your Man" by The Pixies and "Here Comes the Bride" that an old friend from San Francisco had mixed just for the occasion. It was actually an old girlfriend, but she left that part out when she told Delphine, who'd been peppering the evening's conversation with suggestions for their own future ceremony. Tweak this, add that, too much this. Even with the music vibrating through Cosima's skull, all she could manage to hear was a gorgeous French accent saying, "At our wedding, it'll look like this," over and over again.

Sarah propped up the morbid painting on one of Felix's easels. Everyone flinched for a moment as they forced themselves to settle in with the image of the sacrificed assassin.

Only Alison's composure remained stone cold. For her, seeing the dead clone splayed out that way just brought painful memories of Beth, memories she'd managed to keep at bay for the sake of her own sanity. "Yes," Alison thought. "She would've loved to have seen this." All of them together, relatively happy, like a family.

She straightened her spine and constructed a smile, catching a glimpse of Sarah smoothing out her jacket, Cosima running her hand along Delphine's leg, Helena looking down on everyone, blessing the day with a twisted grin.

Chairs scuffed and squealed against the floor as everyone turned to watch the procession.

Kira, basket of petals in hand, glided down the center aisle, using her mother's eyes as her guiding lights.


End file.
